Romans & histoires His Italian Wife

"And I already told you that I deserve an explanation. I'm your wife, Adriano, I deserve to know why you kill him. You said that you want our marriage to work this time but you're the one who keeps pushing me away, you keep hiding things from me. I want to know why you killed him or else I would always call you a murderer." "Fanculo... non so perché hai scelto di essere testarda." He muttered to himself but I heard it because I was a little bit closer to him. (Fuck this…I don't know why you chose to be stubborn) "What did you say?" "I said let's go downstairs and have breakfast, bambina." (Baby) "Are you sure that's what you said in Italian? Because what you said in Italian sounds like an in

Leonardo still bended on a one knee asked his wife who was still glued to her chair in shock. “You have become an amazing partner, a wonderful support system in the six months that we have been together. You have been my source of strength and for that I cannot let you out of my life. You have also brought happiness, you have turned my entire house into a home, you have made me the happiest husband and soon to be father in the world, and therefore I feel that it is only right for me to do the right thing. I ask you again, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?” Leonardo asked his wife once more, this time hoping that she would respond to him. “But Leonardo we are already married so w

“Not now, Angelo. You can be my conscious tomorrow morning after I’ve drunk my scotch, kissed my sons, and made passionate love to my wife.” “I can see the first two happening, but I’m not sure about the last.” Rafe turned to his wife’s voice with a smile. She looked lovely leaning against the doorway with a radiant smile on her face. He couldn’t believe the same woman had almost died two months ago. How am I so lucky? He beckoned her with two fingers and she strutted towards him. When she was a foot away, he grabbed and pulled her into his embrace where he trapped her with his arms. “Why do you not think so mia moglie?”

Luciano said before coming in to give me a very long and quite passionate kiss. "Ew you guys kiss too much." I heard Adri say. Luciano pulled away before speaking. "Your mother has amazing lips." "Sweetie ignore him anyways, ceremony over! Let's start this wedding." "Cheers to becoming Mrs Martini and also becoming my wife." "I love you Mr Martini or now husband." I kissed him once again. "Are you guys coming?" Julien said trying to pull us out to the dance floor. "What do you think wife?" "I think we should go husband."

“You act crazy sometimes, my friend” “That’s all Kayla. You know my wife. When she wants something, she gets” Riccardo said with a smile that was directed to his wife. His Italian accent was so strong, that must be his hometown. Iris noticed. You could see it in his eyes how much he loved the woman.

He had completely lost his former elegance, his eye sockets sunken and cheekbones protruding as if he had not eaten properly in days. However, his eyes burned with a frightening intensity, filled with obsessive love and desperation. I had not expected to see him at this moment, and I felt genuinely surprised. He stumbled forward, his voice trembling. "Aurelia… You can't marry him... You're my wife..." The guests began whispering among themselves, some shocked. Members of the Moretti family rose to their feet, hands moving toward the weapons at their waists.

“I can take care of you. I can make all your aches and pains go away. I can do anything you want me to do…if you just let me in.” I sat outside on the balcony with the phone to my ear. My wife was in the bathtub, soaking for hours after I gave her a massage that practically made her come. The heat in Italy was unforgivable because the humidity was killer, but this was still my favorite season, so I basked in the warmth after the sun set over the horizon.

They just stand in the middle of the room that still smelled like Ben's cologne and sweet crêpes scented ointment. Neither of them could look at me. It was as if they expected someone else to answer the door, as if I couldn’t possibly be the wife. Maybe it's because I'm a foreigner. I'm American here in Italy. “Ma’am,” Officer Bridge said gently, “Your husband wasn’t alone in the car. Are you familiar with a woman named Vittoria Scarpa?” My brow furrowed. “Y-yes. That’s Mr. Scarpa’s wife. Mr. Scarpa is my husband's boss.” I paused. “Why was she with him, instead of my mother-in-law?”

she teased, her eyes bearing nothing but distaste towards Isabelle. “She's my wife, Cici.” She paused. She looked taken aback as she took a long hard look back at Isabelle. It didn't seem like she believed that he would ever have a wife. Isabelle straightened up, her hold on Alessandro tighter as she met Cici’s gaze. “Your wife?” “Isabelle Moretti,” he responded with something that felt like pride attached to it. Cici didn't acknowledge what she just found out. Instead, she returned her eyes back to Alessandro determined not to spare any importance to Isabelle.

Another message popped up, "Tell no one if you want to live." "Nothing!" Adriana retorted sharply," I just need to...." "Nathan!" Someone yelled from afar and Adriana twisted in the direction the voice came from. Rodriguez and his wife. He was dressed in a Hawaiian shirt that showed his bubbly nature and grey shorts that exposed a little more than his tanned thighs. His wife, on the other hand, was dressed in a long summer gown that had printed hibiscus all round and fitted well with her fashion sense and comfort.